


Cooking: Learning to Be Useful

by XenophonSpeaks



Series: Erejean Week [6]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XenophonSpeaks/pseuds/XenophonSpeaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean knows cooking is something special for Eren. When he learns the reason why, Jean makes it his mission to find a way to be more useful in the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cooking: Learning to Be Useful

**Author's Note:**

> Day Six of Erejean Week: Cooking
> 
> Fun fact: I have no idea how to cook and I hate cooking. I'm actually gluten intolerant so I definitely don't know how to bake in particular. My husband is really good at both, though, so most of the information on how to do what (and the decision to headcanon their use of Dutch ovens) was heavily influenced by what I could wheedle out of his expertise. That doesn't make it perfect, but goddammit I tried.
> 
> My goals with this were: Write something in canonverse, and write an established relationship.

Watching Eren cook was a surreal experience. Jean had always admired Eren’s passion, his self-righteous anger and determination to keep moving forward regardless of the odds, but something about being in the kitchen changed him into a completely different person. When Eren was cooking he seemed calm, sure of himself in a quieter way. His hands moved with confidence and a grace that Jean hadn’t known he’d even possessed. Perhaps strangest of all was that he seemed entirely at peace.

“You’re really good at this,” Jean said once, watching as Eren peeled and sliced potatoes with precision. “How did you even learn to cook?”

Eren had paused, his gaze looking through the assortment of vegetables before him rather than at them. After a moment he gave a shrug and a little half-smile, moving with purpose once again.

“My mother taught me,” was all he said.

Jean knew better than to press the subject. After Eren finished with the potatoes, he began peeling and slicing carrots, finally looking up at Jean. The fire burning in the hearth cast the room in warm light, but for all the comfort and warmth the kitchen provided, Eren’s eyes somehow looked dark in the room.

“Mikasa is actually a lot better at this than I am,” he said to Jean where he was perched in his chair by the table. “She was always cooking with mom. I don’t know nearly as much as she does.”

Jean said nothing. There wasn’t really much he could say.

“Mom used to bake these really delicious little cookies for our birthdays. They were really soft and sweet. I always looked forward to birthdays because of them.” He set the knife down delicately, scooping up the chopped vegetables in his hands. “I never learned how to make them, though. Mikasa can’t remember how, either,” he finished sadly, dropping them into the pot.

Jean was struck with an idea. His own mother was an accomplished cook, and baking was something she took particular pride in. Jean knew; he’d eaten her food gratefully many times over the years.

He wondered if she could send him the recipe and tell him how it was done.

The kettle lid clanged loudly as Eren set it in place, turning back toward the table to finish up making a bread starter. Jean stood, walking up behind him to wrap his arms around Eren’s waist, his chin resting on Eren’s shoulder. He felt Eren lean against him, though he kept mixing ingredients into the bowl unhindered.

 _I’m going to make you something_ , Jean thought as he held him close. He just had to figure out how.

-

Writing a letter to his mother to ask for cooking advice was turning out to be a lot harder than Jean expected. He was very used to being pampered and spoiled, but actually having to ask for help was proving to be difficult. He didn’t know how to word things, mainly because he rarely ever wrote his mother letters to begin with and when he did they tended to be more… well, about him and his accomplishments, he realized.

Something about that made him feel incredibly guilty. He knew without having to be told that Eren would give anything to be able to write his mother a letter, and yet here Jean was, so inexperienced at doing so that he wasn’t really even sure how to go about it. Hardly anyone in the survey corps had a mother to even write to. Jean felt the uncomfortable sensation of suddenly realizing he’d been very unappreciative of just how lucky he was.

 _Mom,_ he wrote, staring at the paper before him awkwardly. He was thinking about it too much, he realized. Just write it all out and if it’s terrible you can do it again, he reasoned with himself.

 _I’m sorry I don’t write you enough. I hope you’re doing ok. I know I don’t usually do this but I kind of have a favor to ask you. It’s for Eren._ He knew saying that would guarantee her assistance. She loved Eren almost as much as he did. _He was telling me something about how his mother used to make cookies for him but he doesn’t know how to do it himself. I know you’re really good at baking. Do you have a recipe for cookies that are soft and sweet? That’s what he said his mom used to make. I want to try and do it myself but as you probably know I don’t have any idea how to cook or bake or anything like that. Any advice or recipes you have would be a big help. Thanks in advance. Hopefully we can come visit you soon. Love, Jean_

It was less awkward than he was expecting it to sound, really. Still pretty awkward, but it would have to do. He’d send it out with the next post.

In the meantime, he needed to speak to Mikasa.

\- 

“You want me to teach you how to cook?” she asked skeptically. Jean only knew she was being skeptical by the slight tilt of her head; her tone rarely ever gave anything away.

“Look, Eren said you were better at cooking than he was because—“ Jean cut off, not wanting to bring up bad memories but also not sure how to move forward without doing so. “Because you used to cook with Carla a lot. Eren really likes cooking but he just seems so, I don’t know, lonely when he does it I guess. I just want to be useful.”

Mikasa looked at him for a long moment, her eyes softening at the edges. She reached out to squeeze his shoulder lightly, and Jean knew her well enough to take that as approval.

“I’ll try and teach you what I know,” she agreed. “That means you’ll be on cooking duty with me, though.”

Less time with Eren in the evenings was what she meant. Jean nodded in understanding.

“Let’s get to it, then.”

-

About a week and a half later, Jean’s name was called as mail was being handed out in the mess hall. He jumped up excitedly, banging his knee against the table in the process and nearly sending Sasha’s plate of food flying—a near capital offense judging by her look of horror, for which he apologized profusely as he ran to grab his waiting mail.

He ran back to the table, kissing Eren’s cheek as he grabbed his jacket from his chair in a flurry of movement. “I’ll see you later,” he called, running off.

Eren waved at his retreating form mutely, probably shocked at the public display of affection. Their dating was like an open secret, and while everyone knew it also wasn’t something Jean was usually comfortable displaying out in the open. Jean hadn’t really meant to be so demonstrative, either; he was just so excited it kind of… happened.

He ran down the hall and around a corner, opening a door and breaking outside into the warm mid-morning light. He carefully opened the letter, leaning in the shade of a cool stone wall to read it.

 _To my sweet Jeanbo,_ it read. Jean cringed internally at the nickname, but it was so silly and so his mother than it also made him smile.

_I’m so happy to hear from you! I’m sure you’re very busy but it’s nice to hear that you’re ok once in a while. I’m doing well here at home, though my cooking goes underappreciated without you boys around to share it with. I do hope Eren is doing well, is he eating enough? Are you eating enough? I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to take an interest in cooking. It’s very sweet of you to try and make cookies for Eren. I’ve enclosed the recipe for my best sweet and soft cookies, but be warned, baking can be difficult. Don’t get discouraged if you don’t get it right on your first try. I’m sure Eren will love anything you make regardless. Come and visit me soon, and bring him with you! All of my love to you both, Mom_

He eagerly opened the recipe, scanning its list of ingredients. There were a few things he might have to pick up in town, but Armin could probably help him with that. He sort of wanted to keep the cookies a secret from Mikasa so he could surprise her, too, as a way to thank her for helping teach him to cook.

“I can do this,” he said to himself, determined.

-

“I can’t do this,” Jean said later, head in his hands.

“Stop that. You’re getting flour in your hair,” Mikasa chided, smacking him lightly in the arm with her wooden spoon. “Now pay attention. I know it’s hard at first, but the more you practice, the easier it will become.”

Jean decided that he really, really didn’t like baking bread.

“Why can’t we just make stew,” he grumbled, kneading the dough the way Mikasa had showed him.

“Bread goes well with stew,” Mikasa said reasonably. Jean hated how reasonable and patient she could be while cooking. It was very similar to how peaceful Eren was in the kitchen, as if there was nothing to stress about.

Jean felt like everything about cooking was stressful.

“I don’t know how you can enjoy this. It’s torture,” he said, trying not to inhale too much flour. He’d had a sneezing fit already and wasn’t keen on going for round two.

Mikasa looked at him, twisting and braiding her dough to make something that looked incredibly elaborate and entirely unachievable by Jean’s standards. “It’s not easy,” she said, sounding thoughtful. “But it’s nice. When I’m cooking, I feel better. Connected is maybe a good way to put it.”

She walked over to the hearth, stoking the fire. “Like mom isn’t really gone,” she said quietly.

Jean suddenly felt like he understood. Somehow, cooking seemed a lot more bearable after that.

-

Eren was being a little standoffish with him. Jean couldn’t really blame him; they hadn’t spent much time together in the last month or so since Jean started on his cooking journey. He told himself it would be worth it, but the grumpier Eren got, the less sure he became.

“Want to go for a walk together tonight?” Jean asked one day while they ate lunch together. He watched Eren glare at his food as though it had personally offended him.

“I don’t know. I might be busy,” he said loftily. Jean rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be pissy with me,” he said without heat, finishing off the last of his bread. It was the stuff he and Mikasa had worked on the night before. It wasn’t too bad, he thought.

“Who says I’m pissy with you?” There was definitely heat in Eren’s voice. Jean really didn’t want to fight with him but somehow felt like it was probably inevitable with Eren this determined to be angry with him.

“I’m sorry, ok? I’ve just had a lot going on. I promise we’ll have more time together soon,” he said, reaching out to grab Eren’s hand across the table in another rare display of public affection. Eren pulled his hand out of reach before he could touch him, standing and snatching up his plate.

“I have laundry duty,” he said, storming off.

Jean sighed, laying his hand on the table. Next to him, Armin patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“If it makes you feel any better, he’ll probably feel like an asshole once he finds out what you’ve been doing,” he said cheerfully.

Jean groaned.

-

“I think you’ve finally got it,” Mikasa said, watching as Jean placed a loaf of bread in the Dutch oven and set it by the fire. “It’s certainly tasted good last the last few times, and it’s starting to look almost as good as mine.”

Jean tried not to glow with too much pride but found it very hard to suppress. He eventually grinned, figuring he’d earned it anyway.

“Now you just have to show off your new skills to Eren,” she said, already beginning to clean up the mess they’d made of the kitchen.

“Yeah. Hey,” he said, walking over to stand next to her. “Thanks, Mikasa. I really owe you one.”

She turned to face him fully, smiling one of her rare smiles at him. “No. I think I’m the one that owes you for being good to my brother.”

He felt lucky to have Mikasa. It was really nice to be able to bond with someone over their mutual love for Eren. If nothing else, he knew that he could always depend on Mikasa to take care of Eren if something were to ever happen to him. He also knew Mikasa felt the same way about him in reverse.

“Now help me clean up. You might be better at cooking now but you make an even bigger mess than Eren,” she said, giving him a light shove before grabbing used pots and other utensils and heading over to the corner to wash everything.

“Ouch. That’s entirely uncalled for. No one is that messy,” he said fondly, grabbing a towel to start wiping everything down.

-

Feeling confident with his ability to make a variety of foods and a few baked goods (several types of bread and pie, namely) Jean decided it was time to try his hand at making the cookies. He spoke with Levi, asking special permission for him and Armin to visit town and gather a few things (and offering to bring back a bit of tea if they came across any, which seemed to seal the deal). Armin was somehow able to earn him unfettered access to the kitchen for two days, staying with Jean for most of that time mainly to taste test and provide moral support.

Jean was adamant that Armin try every batch. Carla had made cookies for Armin too on a few occasions, and Jean was insistent that Armin tell him if the taste was even close to comparable to what she used to make.

So far nothing had really hit the mark.

“You need to add molasses next,” Armin was saying, reading over the recipe yet again.

Despite the difficulty of the recipe –he had baked two batches yesterday and failed both times—Jean was feeling calm. Being in the kitchen was no longer as stressful for him, and every time he found himself becoming annoyed, he tried to remember Mikasa’s words; that cooking helped them feel connected to their mother. Jean tried to silently connect to Carla, a woman who was by all accounts wonderful and who he would never have the chance to meet. Jean imagined his own mother working hard to bake something he would enjoy.

He would just have to do Carla’s part for her, he thought.

A while later, they were ready to actually let the dough bake. Jean paced the room nervously, Armin watching him with knowing eyes.

“He’ll love them no matter how they turn out, Jean,” he said, watching as Jean picked up a wooden spoon, waving it around restlessly before setting it back down to begin pacing again.

“I know. I know that,” he said, hand in his hair as he stopped to stare at the fire. “I just really want it to be perfect, you know?”

“It will be,” Armin assured him quietly.

Some time later, Jean bent down to open the Dutch oven to check on their progress. “I think they’re done,” he said hesitantly. Last time he had burned them, and now he was afraid of doing the opposite and leaving them undercooked.

“Let me see,” Armin said, walking over and peering down with a thoughtful expression. “Well, they certainly look good, but there’s only one way to find out, really,” he finally said, and Jean nodded, grabbing the clay pot and moving it away from the fire wordlessly to wait for them to cool.

When they could finally stand to pick them up, he handed one to Armin. “Moment of truth,” he said, watching as Armin took a bite.

Armin’s eyes widened immediately, looking between Jean and the cookie in mild shock.

Jean’s shoulders tensed. “Well?” he prompted.

“This is it,” Armin said, shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth and moaning appreciatively. “Sweet Sina, these are delicious. Just like I remember.”

Jean slumped into a chair, leaning his head back with a smile. “Good,” he sighed, relieved.

He looked over to find Armin reaching for another cookie and smacked his hand away. Armin sulked.

“It’s still early. We can probably clean this up before anyone even comes in to start making dinner,” Jean said, standing to guard the rest of his successfully made treats.

“Eren is on cooking duty tonight,” Armin said, looking wistfully at the plate Jean was hiding in a cupboard. “I think Historia was supposed to be helping him. She absolutely hates cooking, though. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you helped instead.”

Jean looked at him pointedly. “If you keep coming up with great ideas I might be convinced to make you more of these sometime.”

Armin grinned, standing to begin helping clean up the kitchen.

Food really brings people together, Jean thought, feeling like he was starting to understand why cooking was so important to his own mother for perhaps the first time.

-

“What are you doing in here?” Eren said, surprised to find Jean already setting out pots and pans.

“Cooking, obviously,” Jean said with a shrug.

Eren eyed him warily. “You can’t cook, Jean. We’ve been over this before. That’s why you always do all the clean up when you and I have duty together.”

Jean smiled at Eren in what he hoped was a mysterious manner. Eren just looked at him balefully. “You’d better not ruin dinner, Jean.”

“You’d better not ruin it either, Eren.”

Eren muttered something unintelligible but vaguely rude, moving Jean over with his hip to begin peeling and dicing vegetables. Jean pulled out a bread starter he and Mikasa had made well over a week ago, starting on the bread wordlessly. He could feel Eren’s eyes on him, but neither of them said anything, though Jean could see the tension visibly draining from Eren as time went on.

One of his favorite things was that Eren never seemed to be able to stay mad at him in his presence. He could be pissed at him and avoid him, sure, but put them in a room together and Eren seemed unable to hold a grudge for very long.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Eren finally asked.

“A friend,” Jean said cryptically.

“Ok, but _when_ did you learn to do that?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last month?” he asked, giving Eren a look.

Eren’s eyebrows knit, and Jean could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as Eren’s face took on a look of dawning realization.

“You haven’t been ignoring me,” he said quietly.

Jean nodded. “I was trying to learn how to be more useful. This shit is pretty hard.”

He glanced over to find Eren looking at him in quiet awe, his green eyes wide and glittering in the fading evening light. Jean flushed, pleased with himself at having surprised Eren so thoroughly.

“You learned to cook so you could help me in the kitchen?”

He bumped his hip against Eren’s, turning to set the bread dough aside to let it rise. “You always looked so peaceful cooking, but it seemed kind of lonely. I wanted to be a part of that too.”

Jean turned around to stoke the fire, politely ignoring Eren’s quiet sniffing as he tearfully finished up chopping the vegetables.

He walked up behind Eren, wrapping his arms around him. “If you don’t forgive me for not spending so much time with you, I won’t be able to give you your present.”

Eren turned around in his arms, eyes still a little watery but quickly growing full excitement. “My birthday was like two months ago, Jean.”

“I know, I’m sorry. This is just a really late gift,” he said, leaning his forehead against Eren’s. “Will you forgive me?”

Eren’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “If you promise to stop being a dick then I guess I can forgive you.”

“I think you should know me well enough by now to know there’s no way I can promise that.”

Eren gave an amused snort but said nothing further.

Jean kissed him briefly, stepping back to head over to the cupboard where the cookies were hidden. He glanced back to find Eren looking at him curiously.

“Well sit down and close your eyes or something,” he said, waving his hand toward Eren in a shooing motion.

Eren rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting down at the table and closing his eyes. Jean watched him for a moment, taking in the way he glowed in the flickering light of the fire and trying to memorize his smile.

Grabbing the cookies, he walked back over to where Eren sat, sitting the plate down gently. He suddenly found himself incredibly nervous, afraid that maybe this had been a bad idea after all. What if he just ended up making Eren sad? What if the taste wasn’t really right?

“You can open your eyes,” he said quietly, his hands fisting anxiously in the back of his own shirt.

Eren opened his eyes and his smile immediately turned into a look of absolute shock. He reached out slowly, almost reverently, and picked one of the cookies up. He looked up at Jean questioningly, eyes swimming in unshed tears.

“You told me about how your mom used to make you cookies and I, um,” Jean said, shifting from foot to foot, “I asked my mom to send me a recipe. I’ve been practicing. They might not taste very good, I mean Armin said they were good but I don’t really know what that means so I’m sorry if they’re not great,” he finished in a rush.

Eren lept from his chair, throwing his arms around Jean and burying his face in Jean’s shoulder. Jean held him and rubbed his back, feeling Eren’s tears seep into the fabric of his shirt.

“I didn’t want you to cry. You cry about everything,” he said lamely. Eren let out a watery laugh.

“Sorry. I’m just really, really happy,” he said, finally pulling back to look at the cookie still in his hand, cheeks red and wet.

“Well try it and tell me what you think,” he insisted.

Eren took a large bite, his eyes closing around a fresh rush of tears. “It’s exactly like what my mom used to make,” he said, sending a mouthful of crumbs cascading down the front of his shirt. “You seriously spent a month doing this shit?” Eren said once he was able to control himself again, wiping the mixture of cookie crumbs and wet tears from his face.

Jean felt a weird combination of very pleased and also very sorry for having made Eren cry. He nodded solemnly.

“You spent a month doing this shit and I spent a month being pissed off at you about it,” Eren said, mostly to himself.

“Well, to be fair, you’re usually pissed off at me anyway,” Jean countered.

Eren laughed. “I guess that’s true. I’m sorry, though. For being an asshole.”

Jean grinned, pulling him into a warm embrace. “You usually are.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be nice,” Eren groused fondly against his chest, hugging him and sighing happily.

“I love you,” he murmured into the quite after a moment.

Jean squeezed him harder. “If cooking will get you to say that more often I’ll gladly cook every night.”

Eren snorted, and after a moment Jean turned his head to kiss Eren’s hair.

“Love you too, though.”

Jean sort of felt like his heart was swollen with happiness and attempting to climb out of his chest. It was a good feeling. He liked cooking, he decided.

“Oh, and don’t eat all of those. I meant to give some to your sister, too.”

Eren pulled back to glance toward the plate again. “She’s going to cry when you give her those. Just so you know.”

Jean cringed. “I’m prepared to handle a lot of things, but a weepy Mikasa probably isn’t one of them. Maybe you should give them to her.”

“Oooh no you don’t. I don’t want to deal with that either.”

“Come with me then?” Jean asked, giving Eren his best pleading expression.

Eren groaned in defeat. “ _Fine._ I guess I do kind of need to make it up to you.”

“Damn right you do.”

And if dinner was a little overcooked because they spent too much time making out, well, no one had to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to be tumblr buddies? Come and say hello. xenophonspeaks.tumblr.com


End file.
